


Slaying Dragons by Candy Apple

by Candy_A



Series: These Two Hearts by Candy Apple [7]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-05-13
Updated: 2000-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 17:29:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candy_A/pseuds/Candy_A





	Slaying Dragons by Candy Apple

Author's disclaimer: Pet Fly owns the guys and The Sentinel. No money being made. Definitely NO money being made. Trust me on this.

Author's notes: This story won't make much sense if you haven't followed the "These Two Hearts" Series.

Warnings: m/m, h/c, the usual goodies.

Slaying Dragons by Candy Apple

Estimates in hand, Jim and Blair left the pool and patio store with less than cheerful expressions. Installing the in ground pool was not only going to be expensive, but obviously a huge undertaking in terms of uprooting various old trees--and probably damaging the root systems of others. Not at all convinced this was such a great idea anymore, they got into the truck and Jim started up the engine.

"You want to check that new pool and spa place and see what they have to say?" Jim asked, pulling out into traffic. He glanced back at Blair to find the other man staring at him. "What's wrong, Chief?"

"I'm still getting used to it."

"To what, sweetheart?" Jim asked, turning his eyes back to the road.

"Your mustache's new friend," Blair said, referring to the goatee Jim had added to the mustache.

"Jury still out on this one?" Jim chuckled a little. Blair had accepted the mustache--encouraged it even. The new facial hair was taking a bit longer to pass inspection.

"I'll get used to it," Blair responded with a shrug.

"Well, on the scale of sex appeal, sounds like it's scoring about a 2."

"You're always high on my sex appeal scale, lover. A few new whiskers aren't going to change that."

"Nice," Jim commented casually, noticing a motorcycle bearing a "for sale" sign parked out at the end of a driveway they passed.

"You want to look at it?"

"Are you kidding? Did you look at this estimate?" Jim picked the paper up off the seat and gestured with it. "You know damn well we're going to have replace something in the garden, because some jack ass is bound to drive a cement truck somewhere it shouldn't go, so you can tack another grand on top of this to fix the yard when they're done."

"Screw the pool. Let's go look at the bike. C'mon, Jim. You know you want to."

"We can't afford it, Chief. Besides, what would I do with a motorcycle?"

"Man, you have been without one a long time," Blair quipped, laughing. "You'd ride it, dummy."

"What for? I've got the truck."

"Oh, come on, Jim, you can't tell me you're really this far gone. You'd buy it and ride it to have fun. Remember fun, Jim?"

"Yeah. It's what I had before they raised the property taxes again."

"If we don't put in this...this...giant cement...thing in our backyard, we could afford for you to get a bike." Blair took the estimate out of Jim's hand. "Probably a year's supply of gas, too." Shaking his head, he tossed the paper back down. "Let's just go look at it." Blair added, "Besides, wait 'til you see what the pool does to our property taxes."

"Point taken." Jim pulled into a nearby driveway and turned around, heading back toward the offered bike. "You know that bike's probably eight or ten grand. If we're going to lay out that kind of money, it ought to be on something we can both enjoy."

"You mean you wouldn't take me for a ride on it?"

"Who else am I gonna take, professor?" Jim smiled, pulling up to the curb in front of the house where the bike was parked. "I just meant that you've never been into bikes at all--"

"I don't know much of anything about them, Jim. See, this is the part where you teach me how to do something. You can teach me to ride that thing." Blair gestured toward the motorcycle.

"It is a good-looking ride, isn't it?" Jim had that little glint in his eye now, and he got out of the truck with Blair close behind him. As Jim examined the bike, then squatted down beside it for a closer look, it was obvious he knew what he was evaluating. "Looks like it's had a lot of work done on it. It's in good shape."

"What is it? I mean, I can see it's a Harley, but that's about it."

"It's a Harley Davidson FXE...I think about a '75 or '76."

"It's a '75," a voice startled them from behind. Jim straightened up and both of them turned to see a man about Blair's age heading toward them. "My brother's getting married, and he needs the money, so he has to part with it. He's put a lot of time in on it," he explained. The dark-haired man smiled. "I wanted to buy it, but we're putting a deck on the house, so..." he shrugged. "I got vetoed."

"You know what he's had done to it?" Jim asked.

"I've got all the receipts in the garage. He's a mechanic, so he did all the work himself. A lot of the chrome was added last year, I know there's a new wiring harness, new Fat Bob tanks..." He walked around the bike as if trying to remember what else he should mention. "Oh, yeah, and the tires, obviously."

"Yeah, I noticed those looked new."

"You want to take it for a ride?" he asked.

"What are you asking for it?"

"Well, it's my brother's bike, like I said, so you'd have to talk business with him, but he's asking $8,000."

"Why don't you try it out, Jim?" Blair prodded.

"I've got a helmet in the garage."

"Okay," Jim agreed, smiling slightly. The other man hurried up the driveway to get the helmet and the key to the bike. "I don't want to take you out on this thing without a helmet, Chief."

"That's okay. I'll wait here. You can leave me here for collateral," Blair joked.

"They haven't come up with anything valuable enough for me to do that, sweetheart," Jim responded, smiling at Blair, who grinned back at the comment.

"Okay, here you go." The man handed the helmet and key to Jim. "My name's Paul Lamont, by the way."

"I'm Jim Ellison, this is my partner, Blair Sandburg."

"Partner?"

Figuring it was easier than going into a prolonged explanation of their relationship, Jim pulled out his police ID and badge.

"Oh, man, that's a coincidence! My brother's a cop in Seattle. He left the bike here a few days while he's out of state visiting the almost-in-laws."

"I won't be long."

"Take your time. At least I don't have to worry about you stealing it," Paul quipped. "You want a beer or something?" he asked Blair.

"No, thanks, I'm fine. You're working on a deck?"

"Yeah. I've got it started out back if you want to take a look."

"Sure. Take your time, Jim," Blair said, backing away from the motorcycle as Jim straddled it, put on the helmet and then revved the engine. A moment later he was on his way out of the driveway onto the street.

Careful not to really open up the engine and risk life and limb moving through the suburban streets, Jim headed out toward more open terrain. It was a brisk spring day, a bit chilly for the clothing he wore, but the feeling of the rushing wind and the responsiveness of the bike's engine was addictive. While he really didn't plan to lay out $8,000 on a toy for himself, it was fun to at least ride again, if only for a few minutes.

He found himself heading outside the Cascade city limits, opening up the engine now and racing down a country road, more than a little impressed with the old bike's handling and performance. This was a damn good piece of equipment, and the price wasn't bad. What was so ironic is that this was almost the same bike as the last one he'd owned, right before he'd fallen out of favor with his father and ended up en route to military school instead of his senior year of high school. He'd only owned two bikes--one old one his father bought from a neighbor so Jim could tinker with it and try it out before spending a larger sum on a "real bike", and then, the "real bike"--the '75 Harley Davidson FXE.

The bike had been sold to cover the repairs to his father's Cobra that the insurance didn't cover--although at the time, it had been overkill for the wealthy elder Ellison to sell the motorcycle to pay off a $500 deductible. He had reasoned that Jim wasn't going to need it where he was going, and since Jim never returned home for more than one necessary holiday visit over the Christmas break and then for a month until he turned 18 in July of that year, he couldn't argue too much with that justification. And given the way things were left between his father and himself at the time, he really wouldn't have wanted to take anything with him that he owed the old man for.

The thought of dropping in on his father crossed his mind briefly, and he laughed, picturing what the older man would think of his son arriving in that sedate neighborhood on his hog, wearing his leather jacket, sporting a mustache and goatee. //Maybe I'll bring the earring out of retirement while I'm at it,// he thought wickedly, laughing all by himself as he maneuvered the bike around another curve. //Better yet, I'll visit when I have the earring back and can show up with my male lover on the back of my bike.//

Jim was still smiling at his own musings when he returned to the small ranch house, not surprised to see Blair working with the homeowner in the garage on some task involving a 2x4 for the deck. It was pretty unlikely that Blair could stand around and not help out when a second pair of hands was needed.

"What do you think?" Blair asked immediately, hurrying out to where Jim stood next to the bike. Paul seemed to know enough to give the two men a few minutes to discuss things, as he hung back in the garage, finishing up whatever it was he and Blair had been doing.

"It's a great bike, Chief. But it's still eight grand. That's too much to just toss out on some trinket for me to play with."

"How much did my computer set up end up costing?" Blair asked.

"What's that got to do with this?"

"Plenty, Jim. You unloaded five thousand on that set up without even pausing."

"You need it for your work."

"I need a computer. But I wanted this system, so you ended up getting me one that does everything but write the lectures for me and make me a cappuccino while I wait. I've got a printer the U's graphics department would be jealous of, and while we're talking about that, what about that computer desk?"

"I wanted one that fit in with the decor--the oak woodwork."

"Jim."

"Okay, so you wanted that, but it was a good idea."

"And then you thought I needed a better desk chair, and of course only leather would do because of the motif of the room. Shit, Jim, if we add all that up--"

"You finished the basement for me. And what about the drums?"

"You know, we could stand here and do this tit for tat thing all afternoon. We've got money saved for this god-awful pool project that neither of us wants to go ahead with, and I want you to have this. And I know you want it. I can see that."

"I don't know..."

"Yes, you do. Come on, Jim. Give him a deposit."

"Chief, I--"

"Do you want that bike?" Blair pinned him with an intent look.

"Well, I--"

"Do. You. Want. That. Bike?" Blair repeated, his tone firmer than Jim had heard it since long before their unfortunate separation. He hadn't seen quite this much of Blair's dominant side since they'd been reunited.

"Yes," he responded, in spite of himself. There was something in Blair's voice that was too compelling for him to avoid or deny. Within a few minutes, they had left a check to hold it until Paul's brother returned home. Jim would haggle price a little with him then, but he knew the bike was his, because now that he'd committed to it, even the full $8,000 asking price would be met if that's what it took.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into a motorcycle, Chief," Jim said as they neared their own driveway.

"Yeah, man. I had to really twist your arm."

"You did, actually," Jim responded, smiling. "Thanks."

"I didn't have to twist your arm to want it. I just had to twist your arm to take it. It's okay to do something just for you sometimes."

"In a marriage, not usually," Jim responded, shaking his head.

"In a good marriage, it should be. Because in a good marriage, both people get to be number one sometimes. I put you first and you put me first, so we're both always first with somebody. Everybody wins. And as far as this goes, since when don't you get some joy out of making someone you love happy? I know you wanted that bike--I knew it the moment you just about did a 180 in your seat to ogle it from the road when we drove by." Blair smiled, laying a hand on Jim's thigh. "I'm real happy you're getting it, Jim."

"I'm real happy I've got you." Jim scooped up the hand and squeezed it, smiling but watching the last few turns in the country road that led to their house.

"Yeah, and you can ride me anytime," Blair added in a sultry voice, flexing his eyebrows.

//Anytime other than when he's looking for something,// Jim lamented, remembering Blair's sexy remark which the younger man had apparently forgotten shortly after making it. Not only was he not in one place long enough for Jim to catch him, let alone ride him, but now he was on a quest for some dusty old book on the Yanomamo head hunters. And when Blair was looking for something, nothing would distract him from his mission. Not even the ominous thud that had come from the attic, accompanied by the expected "Shit!!" declaration that followed. In a moment, Blair muttered "I'm okay" just to let Jim know he hadn't been under whatever fell--knowing that Jim's ears would be tuned to the sounds until he was sure his lover was unhurt by the commotion. Satisfied, Jim went back to watching the game.

A moment later, his attention was drawn back to the attic by a sound that he never liked to hear--Blair was crying. He strained his ears a moment to be sure he was hearing correctly, since the younger man had just said he was fine. Furthermore, even if Blair had hurt himself, he wouldn't have sat on the floor and cried--he'd have called for help. Puzzled, Jim got up and headed for the stairs.

When he finally walked into the attic, he found Blair sitting on the floor, an upended carton nearby that had spilled a number of spiral notebooks and a few large books, and obviously, the two items Blair held in his hands. One was a small, black leather computer disk carrier and the other was a photograph that looked quite a bit the worse for wear around the edges.

"Blair? What's wrong, sweetheart?" Jim knelt next to him on the floor and slid an arm around his shoulders. Blair wordlessly handed him the worn photo. Jim had to laugh when he saw it. It was Henri's birthday party, at least five years ago, shortly after Jim and Blair had moved in together. This photo captured just the two of them, cakes bearing birthday cake in hand, Blair holding his own plate while Jim stole one of the two flowers off Blair's piece to put one on his own. It had been a small gesture, but in seeing that photo again, Jim felt the flood of the old feelings he'd experienced then. It was just a gaggy sweet frosting rose, but Blair's immediate decision to share one of his two with Jim when Jim had none was so symbolic of their whole relationship that this photo had a much deeper meaning than it would appear on the surface. They were a team, and what they had, they shared. Good and bad.

"I carried that with me all the time," Blair explained, swallowing his emotion enough to talk. "I kept it in with these disks," Blair said, gesturing with the little case. "It was the only photo of us that I had, and...I had to hide it." Blair took a shaky breath and gave in to a few more tears. "But I used to look at it all the time, and remember...I missed you so much..."

"Hey, come on, honey. It's okay. I'm here now. We're together." Jim pulled his crying lover into his arms and rocked him slowly, patting his back. "You haven't gone through that box in a while, huh?"

"I just...stored it. It was...stuff from...stuff you found...at Vince's... I couldn't look at it," Blair explained through his tears.

"This is the box that fell. I guess we should have stacked them better. You know, Chief, this picture...it's really special. It's a good memory."

"That's why...it hurt so bad...I used to look at it...and remember how...how much I loved you. I was so...fucking...lonely without you." Blair gave up on talking then and burrowed into Jim's embrace, letting the tears go, letting Jim's soothing hands and gentle words heal the old wound that had been re-opened when he'd found the photo.

"I think we were both miserable being apart, sweetheart. But you...what you went through should have never happened to anyone, let alone to someone as good and gentle and caring as you." Jim kissed the top of Blair's head. "It just hurts really bad when one of these old memories comes back, doesn't it?" Jim asked sympathetically, knowing that there were times when he couldn't really say anything that would make a difference. When all he could do was hold Blair while he cried and wrestled with his old demons.

"He would've...killed me...if he'd found this. But I was...more afraid...he'd find it...and take it...away from me. It was...it meant more to me...than anything else...I had."

"You mean more to me than anything else in the world, you hear me, cuddlebug? I missed you every minute you were gone."

"It was like...all those...old feelings...were there...when I saw this. I remembered taking it out...and looking at it...and sometimes...I'd cry...because I felt so bad, and so lonely...and I needed you so much."

"I need you too, sweetheart. I'm right here. I always will be." Jim swallowed hard, feeling a couple tears of his own escaping for Blair's pain. "You want to know what I see when I see this picture?" Jim let the question be rhetorical, still rubbing Blair's back and rocking slightly. "I see the first time I really felt like I had a life partner. Not just a police partner, not just a...a...helper with this sentinel thing. But somebody who looked out for me. I know it was just a dumb hunk of frosting, but..." Jim shrugged, looking at the photo again. "But nobody in my whole life ever gave me one of their roses." Jim had to chuckle at the simplistic words, hoping that the real meaning he wanted to convey was getting through. Blair actually laughed a bit, and pulled back a little, snorkeling somewhat inelegantly and blinking until he could look at the picture with Jim, his cheek still resting against Jim's chest.

"Nobody?" Blair asked.

"Nobody but you, cuddlebug. You're the only person in my entire life that ever tried so damn hard to make me happy--who cared so much, and asked me for so little in return. And when I look at this picture, I remember how you didn't even ask me if I wanted it, and I didn't even have to complain about not having much frosting on my cake. You just noticed that you had a lot and I didn't have much and you told me to take it. Like the order of the universe wouldn't be restored until we were on equal footing."

"Maybe it was a harmonic convergence thing," Blair commented, chortling a little weakly. "Gotta keep those planets aligned, man."

"You think it would be okay if we kept this picture? It doesn't have to be out anywhere if it upsets you. But I'd like for us to have it. I think it's pretty special."

"That picture survived Vince. I guess it doesn't deserve to get trashed now," Blair responded, snorting a little laugh.

"It survived. Just like you. And it came back to me. Just like you. I don't plan on giving either one of you up anytime soon." Jim leaned down and kissed a wet cheek. "You want to take a look at the rest of that stuff now?"

"Yeah," Blair said, nodding a little.

"Here, drippy. Use this." Jim handed Blair his handkerchief.

"I think I got snot on you."

"Wouldn't be the first sticky stuff you've squirted me with."

"Won't be the last, either," Blair retorted, blowing his nose into the cloth.

"So what is this stuff, anyway?" Jim pulled the carton over closer to where they sat on the floor.

"Most of these are just notebooks from my classes. I mean, from the seminars I was taking as a student." Blair pulled out one spiral notebook that had been torn in half and was still missing the back cover and half its pages. "Vince," Blair said simply, tossing it aside and pulling out a book. "Well, at least I found this." Blair waved the book he'd been looking for toward Jim. "Shithead liked reading about headhunters. I kind of forgot about him picking that up and looking at it. I guess that's why it was with this stuff."

"Don't let that get around--it'll give the headhunters a bad name," Jim quipped, and Blair actually laughed.

"Oh, yeah, I remember this. Elaine made this for me. I kind of wondered what happened to it." Blair pulled out a brown knitted scarf.

"Sorry about that, Chief. I was so goddamn mad at Watson when I was packing your stuff that I wasn't too careful with what I put where."

"I'm just glad you got it back. I mostly mean the photo. I'm glad to have Elaine's scarf, too--it'll go with those mittens she knitted for me for Hanukkah last year--thinking of course I still had the scarf." Blair laughed a little, running his hand over the soft brown yarn of the scarf.

"You think maybe we could go down to our room and you could shoot a little more sticky stuff on me?" Jim proposed, leaning in for a quick kiss.

"I guarantee it won't come out of my nose this time."

"If it does, I want to take pictures," Jim teased, standing and pulling Blair up by the hand.

They arrived in the bedroom, still holding hands. Jim fell back on the bed and pulled Blair down on top of him, wrapping his lover in a tight embrace and capturing his mouth. Cursing at uncooperative clothes, they finally separated long enough to strip in record time, leaving the garments in a rumpled, mingled heap by the side of the bed before pulling the covers back and climbing in, getting comfortable for a long, slow afternoon of lovemaking.

Hands and mouths eagerly worshiped rapidly heating flesh, until they shifted positions, Jim relaxing on his stomach, enjoying the view while Blair hung off the edge of the bed looking for the lube they'd somehow managed to lose track of the night before. Tossing it aside had been sexy last night, but it was down right frustrating now trying to find the damn tube. And watching Blair's naked ass writhing on the edge of the bed while he searched was stoking a fire in Jim that cried out for some sort of satiation.

"Yes!!" Blair rose back up on his knees on the bed, the somewhat beleaguered tube in hand. Happy that he had the essential supplies handy now, Blair covered Jim's body with his own, letting his cock rub lazily between Jim's buttocks while he kissed his way across the broad shoulders, smiling at the rippling of the muscles in Jim's back.

Expertly flipping the top off the tube and getting some of the gel on his fingers with just one hand, Blair kept on kissing and nibbling, moving aside enough to work a greasy finger into the tight opening, starting the gradual progression of preparing his lover.

"God, you're gorgeous. Perfect," Blair sighed against Jim's back. "Love you so much, babe." Blair worked his way up to a second finger, knowing the preparation stage wouldn't have to last long as Jim's hips started rotating to increase the sensations of Blair's wiggling digits. Brushing one long finger over Jim's prostate, Blair savored the howl it elicited from Jim. He used the moment to add the third finger.

"Come on, sweetheart. Let's cut to the chase, huh?" Jim prodded breathlessly.

"That's my Jim. Ever the romantic," Blair teased gently, flexing his fingers inside his lover's body. "You ready for me, love?"

"Oh yeah," Jim groaned, moaning loudly at another little brush of his prostate.

In a moment, Blair's fingers were replaced with the slick head of his cock, and then it was easing slowly into Jim's body. Blair felt the wet heat sucking him in, squeezing him, wrapping around him like Jim so often wrapped around him when he most needed to feel safe. Finally all the way inside, he rested against Jim's back a moment, letting the love he felt flood his heart at the same time the physical sensations from his imprisoned cock were flooding his body.

Slowly, then, he began thrusting, waiting for any rapid movement until Jim had adjusted to their union and began moving with him, encouraging him to move faster. Soon, they were rocking together, moaning, panting, exchanging fragments of almost nonsensical endearments until the pace became more frantic, and Blair began consciously trying to impact with Jim's prostate. Soon, Blair felt the telltale stiffening of Jim's body just before the wild spasms of the tight passage massaged his cock, Jim shouting out his completion. A moment later, Blair reached his own pinnacle with a few rapid thrusts, filling Jim and then collapsing on the broad, muscular back, soaking up the closeness.

"Still alive back there, Chief?" Jim teased, reaching back and catching one of Blair's hands, lacing their fingers.

"I'm not sure. I might've died and gone to heaven." Blair yawned. "Are you okay?"

"I'm great," Jim responded contentedly.

"You sure are," Blair retorted, grinning.

Finally relinquishing their union, the two men shifted until Blair was on his back and Jim was settled against him. After resting a few moments, and dozing a little, Jim's hand strayed down to Blair's cock,

"Mmmm," was Blair's drowsy, if not eloquent, reply. He spread his legs a bit for easier access, sighing contentedly as Jim's hand moved from his cock to lightly massage his balls.

In moments, they were kissing again, and Jim moved between Blair's spread legs, bracing himself on his forearms, claiming Blair's mouth aggressively. He was already hard again, and Blair was close behind him, thrusting up to increase the friction of their erections.

"The lube's under the pillow," Blair suggested breathily. Jim grinned at his words and reached for it.

"Oh, shit."

"Look behind the bed," Blair instructed.

"I wonder if they made a tube that hooks on the headboard? You know, like those shampoo bottles for the shower?" Jim lurched in the bed to make the mattress shift so he could get his arm between it and the headboard.

"Ow."

"Sorry."

"Just get it."

"I got it," Jim announced proudly, moving back in the bed and kneeling as Blair pulled his knees up and spread himself open. Every time Blair offered himself so willingly, something in Jim was amazed by it. After all he'd been through, Blair was still so passionate and loving. Jim had never had to "miss out" on anything in bed because of Blair's past. He would have loved Blair with all his heart and soul forever no matter how badly damaged he'd been, but the beauty and completeness of their sex life was a treasured gift.

Smiling at those thoughts, he leaned forward and kissed Blair thoroughly, lingering there to taste his mouth, to nip at his nose and his chin and make him laugh. Nothing made Jim happier than to see Blair laugh and smile when they made love. Capturing those addictive lips again, Jim grasped and pumped the rapidly hardening cock that was still slick from their first round of lovemaking. Breaking the kiss, he moved down to stretch and prepare Blair, realizing it wouldn't take much effort as relaxed as the younger man was now.

Letting an assertive finger find and rub over the little nob deep inside Blair's body, Jim watched his lover transform with the pleasure, his whole body flexing, his kiss-swollen lips releasing a cry of ecstasy as he tried to bear down on the invading fingers. Deciding a sight so beautiful should be seen at least one more time, Jim brushed over the little gland again, and Blair cried out, his cock filling to its limits.

"Jim...now..." he managed, and Jim knew he was close to the edge. If Jim wanted to be inside when Blair came, now was the time to move. Gently removing his fingers, Jim positioned himself at the snug opening and slid slowly inside until they were fully joined. He felt the warmth, weight and pressure of Blair's legs wrapping around him, pulling him in tight.

As he began thrusting, he licked and sucked at taut nipples, feeling Blair's hands slide into his hair to encourage him to keep up the stimulation. Blair didn't last long with the hot suction on his nipples and the rubbing of his prostate sending dual jolts of pleasure through his body. Jim felt the tide of his own orgasm rippling to the surface, and he moved faster, more intensely, claiming that hot, moist, secret place as his own.

When they came, it was simultaneous, their cries mingling as they struggled between stilling to ride the tide of the climax and thrusting more rapidly to increase the amazing sensations. It was an awkward but passionate dance that ended with both men exhausted and sated in each other's arms.

"Love you," Blair sighed against Jim's chest, almost asleep. Jim, who had precious little more energy than his dozing lover, used what little he did have to hold Blair just a little tighter and kiss his temple.

"Love you too, sweetheart."

Blair woke to the sensation of something warm and wet on his earlobe, and then on his neck. Smiling, he let his eyes remain closed and purred deep in his throat, savoring the little dance Jim's tongue was doing on his warm flesh. Jim fastened his mouth on Blair's neck now, working on what would be a prominent passion mark. Then he was in motion again, licking, nibbling and nosing his drowsing lover.

Warm, gentle hands were caressing him, teasing a couple of erogenous zones that were just too sated and content to respond. Still, the touches felt good, and Blair wriggled a little with the pleasure of them.

"You smell good," Jim whispered hotly against Blair's ear.

"Now?" Blair was surprised enough to open his eyes for that comment. They had been sweaty and covered with lube and other bodily fluids, and even to his normal sense of smell, Blair thought he was well overdue for a hosing down.

"You smell like mine," Jim growled into the same ear, then nibbled at the lobe. "My smell is on you...in you." Jim dragged his tongue along the side of Blair's neck down to his shoulder.

"I was always yours, Jim," Blair said softly, relaxing into the

attentions. "I always will be."

"Better be, or I'll hunt you down," Jim responded, with a smile in his voice. Blair chuckled at that.

"Excited about the bike?" Blair asked, wondering if mention of the motorcycle would distract the questing mouth that was marking his shoulder. Not that he wanted it to stop. When Jim had taken his time marking his mate and then licking over the spot, he responded.

"Can't do this with chrome," Jim responded, settling back down with his nose in the niche between Blair's neck and shoulder, breathing in the scent of his lover's hair.

"You can't tell me you haven't thought about it at all."

"Not for the last few hours I haven't." Jim sighed. "But yes, I'm excited about it, Chief. It's just like my old one."

"Your old one?"

"It was a new one then, I guess," Jim responded, laughing. "The one my dad bought me when I was in high school."

"The same kind as this one?" Blair looked over his shoulder, surprised.

"Same make, model and year."

"Oh, man," Blair responded, settling back down again. "That's gotta be some sort of fate thing."

"Seems like it, huh?" Jim squeezed Blair a little tighter, kissing his cheek.

"What happened to that bike?"

"Got sold to pay the bill for the Cobra," Jim stated simply. He was more interested in exploring the little quivers in Blair's belly as he rubbed his hand over it than he was reliving his childhood.

"You can't tell me your dad didn't have that thing insured out the ass."

"There was a $500 deductible."

"Like he couldn't afford it." Blair shook his head. "You know, Jim, I'm glad you've had a chance to talk with your dad a little more in recent years, and I hope you guys can keep on working on your relationship and everything, but sometimes he was just such a total dick to you when you were a kid that I want to go smack him one."

"I left for military school--I couldn't have used the bike there anyway, and then I went on to college and then the army."

"You could have used it in college. He could have stored it. It was just plain meanness."

"He thought I'd smashed the car up. If I'd really done it, I would have deserved to lose the bike. I can't really go back and blame him because--"

"Because he didn't believe you about not doing it?"

"Stephen was his favorite, Blair. I was the troublemaker. The one with the drums, the one with the motorcycle hobby, the one who didn't fit in. Stephen never came forward, and I had already put a little dent in it once, so I was the most likely suspect. I didn't rat out Stephen--but then, whether or not I could have sold him that story even if I had is questionable." Jim let out a long breath, and Blair leaned into his lover as he felt it dance over his shoulder. "I think my father has had a chance to look back on some things now, and wish he'd done them differently."

"You were a good kid, Jim. I know you were."

"I was a sullen oddball who holed up in my room and read or thumped on drums or tinkered with my bike. I played football and got good grades because it was expected."

"With everything you were repressing, it's amazing you functioned that well."

"Probably explains why I felt so out of it most of the time--disassociated with everything."

"You know I love you just how you are--no matter what you do, right?" Blair twisted around in Jim's arms until they faced each other.

"I know that, treasure." Jim kissed Blair's forehead and pulled him into a tight hug. "You have any other plans today?" Jim asked.

"Yeah, but all of them involve you and this bed."

"Sounds good to me, baby."

"Hey, Jim, we better get a move on if--" Blair froze in the doorway of the bedroom, the words dying on his lips. Dressed from head to toe in black leather, Jim was just finishing putting a minute, hair-thin gold hoop in his left ear. The tiny earring just barely caught the light as the other man turned to him with a devilish grin.

"I thought we might drop by my dad's place after we pick up the bike."

"Uh..." Blair gaped at the motorcycle boots, the leather pants that fit the curves of Jim's ass very nicely and the black leather jacket that matched.

"Oh, and there's something for you in that box on the bed."

"Jim...I..." Blair smiled in open appreciation. "Oh my God!" He laughed a little, staring at Jim like he was a piece of grade A prime rib and Blair was a starved pit bull.

"Open the box, Chief." Jim sat on the foot of the bed next to it, and Blair stood in front of it, flipping the lid off what looked like a large coat box. Inside was a sea of black leather. "If you think this is stupid, you don't have to wear it."

"Matching outfits?"

"I figured we'd be doing some riding today..." Jim shrugged.

"This is so cool!" Blair pulled out the jacket first, then tossed it aside to look at the pants. "Man, good thing I didn't have that extra bagel this morning."

"You ever seen anyone in loose leather pants?"

"Jim, this is great. I love it. But you didn't have to do this. I mean, I don't plan on making you drag me along every time you want to take the bike out."

"I want to drag you along, every time you want to go. When you don't, all you have to do is say so." Jim caught Blair around the waist and pulled him down on his lap. "I love you."

"I love you too," Blair replied, grinning. "Oh, man, are you sure about going to your dad's?" Blair gaped at Jim's new image. The mustache, the goatee, the earring, the black leather...it was mind-numbingly sexy. But it was also like looking at a whole different person.

"Right after we drop in on Simon."

"He's going to freak."

"Go on. Get dressed. We've got a whole city to shock and just one day off to do it."

The price on the motorcycle had been haggled down to $7,500, and Jim was more than satisfied with the deal. Armed with his own helmet now, he fastened it into place and started out of the previous owner's driveway, with Blair following him in the truck. It was a sunny, perfect Spring Sunday, and the plan was to take ride back out to the house, ditch the truck, and take Blair out for a real ride on the new toy.

Jim had thoroughly enjoyed the vision of Blair in black leather. Watching him writhe into the pants had been an experience that had left Jim's own a bit too snug for his own good. With long hair loose on his shoulders, Blair looked a bit like an escapee from a heavy metal band. Jim hadn't been able to resist buying for him the jacket with the fringe and silver accents. Or the boots with the silver buckles. Blair was born to make an entrance, and while Jim liked everything tailored on his own outfit, he couldn't resist making Blair's just a bit more flamboyant.

Blair parked the truck and hopped out of it, heading back toward Jim as he sat on the bike in the driveway.

"Helmet," he said, and Blair turned and hurried back into the garage, picking up the new black helmet where he'd left it on the workbench. //One more back view of the leather pants,// Jim thought, enjoying the lecherous feelings until he felt his own pants become uncomfortable.

Blair returned, not altogether oblivious to Jim's ogling, and straddled the bike. He sat on the seat right behind Jim, tucking his hair behind his ears and fastening his helmet in place.

"Hang on, Chief." Jim smiled as he felt Blair's body pressing against his back, arms going around him from behind and squeezing. Hard. "A little looser would be good, sweetheart," Jim complained gently, patting Blair's arm. "I promise we won't do 90 around the curves." Jim waited until the grip loosened a little. "Yet," he added, revving the engine.

Jim did have mercy on his partner, keeping the speeds sensible as they first toured around the country roads a bit, enjoying the beautiful Spring weather up close and personal in way they never could have enclosed inside the truck.

Finally content they'd given the bike a good test run, Jim started back for town, heading determinedly for Simon's place first. To his delight, the captain was out in his yard, raking the dead grass out of his lawn. Jim pulled into the driveway and just sat there a moment, revving the engine. He snickered inwardly as he saw Simon pause in his work and watch the visitors with great suspicion. Having mercy on his boss, Jim cut the engine and pulled off his helmet.

"'afternoon, Simon," he said cheerfully, and Blair pulled his own helmet off then.

"Hi, Simon."

"Sweet Lord," Simon muttered under his breath, taking in the sight of Jim Ellison in head to toe leathers, sporting not only the facial hair he'd recently had to learn to tolerate, but an earring now too. //Jack Pendergrast, where the hell are you now?// he thought more than a little desperately.

"What do you think of the new toy?" Blair chirped cheerfully.

"That's quite a machine," Simon said, approaching Jim and Blair. "I, uh, didn't know you were still into motorcycles Jim." //Or earrings. Holy Shit, he's wearing that damn earring again.//

"Blair talked me into it," Jim reported, smiling and patting Blair's knee where it rested close to his thigh.

"Yeah, I really had to twist his arm," Blair quipped. "You want to go for a ride? I'll wait here," Blair offered.

"Gee, thanks, but, uh...I probably better keep working." Simon swallowed and tried to think of the right way to ask if he was going to see Jim show up at work the next day looking like this. "What's with all this?" he asked, gesturing at the clothing.

"Can't go out riding without the right gear," Jim responded. "You sure you don't want to go for a spin?"

"I'm sure. Thanks anyway," Simon replied, still eyeing his visitors as if they'd just landed in pods instead of via motorcycle. "Nice bike, Jim." Simon smiled then, and Jim and Blair returned it.

"Thanks. See you tomorrow, then." Jim started putting on his helmet, then paused to have a little mercy on Simon. "I'm not transferring back to Vice anytime soon, so you don't have to worry about the leathers, Simon," Jim stated, chortling a little.

"That's a relief. I had visions of you showing up like this to our meeting with the mayor tomorrow morning."

"Don't tempt me," Jim replied, fastening the helmet in place and glancing behind him to make sure Blair was ready for take-off.

The next stop on the tour was the Ellison homestead. The rumble of the motorcycle engine brought William Ellison to his front window. Knowing his father would be less likely than Simon to approach two strangers in black leather riding a motorcycle, Jim pulled off his helmet and waved. Both Jim and Blair would have paid good money to capture the elder Ellison's expression on a video camera.

Strolling out onto his porch, Jim's father waited until Jim and Blair had dismounted and were heading for the front door.

"Another undercover case, Jimmy?" he asked. His tone was friendly, a bit amused.

"The bike's mine, Dad. We just picked it up this morning."

"Hi, Bill," Blair greeted, joining them on the porch.

"You're in on this too?" he asked Blair, as if Blair were somehow expected to keep Jim in line and had fallen down on the job.

"It was his idea."

"Thanks, Jim," Blair retorted sarcastically. "Yeah, I'm in on it. Jim's always liked motorcycles, and when he spotted one he liked, there didn't seem to be much reason not to go for it."

"Okay, the bike I understand but...what..." He gestured at Jim's outfit, and upward, his eyes fixing on the earring.

"You want us to stay out on the porch or could we come in?" Jim asked.

"I didn't want to scare Sally. She'll think it's a home invasion." Jim's father walked inside and stood aside near the door as Jim and Blair walked in, laughing. Bill Ellison had swallowed a lot of things he didn't like to maintain his brittle peace with his son. He'd managed to tolerate Jim's announcement that Blair was his life partner in every sense, he'd coped with the two of them buying a house together and living like any other married couple, and now he was apparently trying like hell to get past his usually conservatively dressed son looking like a poster boy for Harley Davidson.

"Sally's here?"

"She's in the kitchen making dinner. You two want to stay? It's just me tonight--she's going home after she fixes dinner."

"I'm clear--how about you, Jim?" Blair prodded his partner, always nudging Jim when necessary to meet his father halfway.

"I could eat," Jim responded, nodding.

"I'll tell Sally to make sure there's enough and set a couple more places." He disappeared down the hall, heading for the kitchen.

"Well, he didn't pass out," Jim said, smiling and shaking his head.

"Are you disappointed?"

"Maybe a little," Jim answered honestly.

"He's trying, Jim. I think if you'd shown up in a pink tutu, he'd have given it a shot." Blair sat on the edge of the couch as Jim sat in a chair in the living room. "Maybe you wanted to see if he could accept you on your terms, huh?" Blair asked, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"Maybe," Jim admitted.

"Oh my goodness!" Sally's exclamation startled them both from the doorway of the living room. "Jimmy...Blair...Oh! What have you done to yourself?" She headed over to Jim as both men rose. Jim leaned down to give her a peck on the cheek, and she actually giggled.

"Tickles, doesn't it?" Blair asked mischievously, succeeding in making Sally blush to match the red blouse she was wearing.

"How about a ride on my motorcycle, Sally?" Jim asked, smiling widely as the older woman laughed.

"I don't think so, Jimmy. But thank you."

"Sally was just finishing up with dinner and getting ready to go home, and I knew she'd never believe me if she didn't see it for herself," Bill said, rejoining the group.

Sally stayed long enough to serve the dinner and then took her leave, turning down the invitation to join them. With relatives visiting, she had other plans for the rest of her Sunday.

"How is your project going at the police department?" Bill asked Blair as they began eating the hearty plates of pot roast and vegetables. "I hope the department is watching out for you a little better than they did before."

"That wasn't the PD's fault," Blair said, shaking his head. "The whole program is new, and in all fairness, I didn't really think about the risks as much as I should have. We all dropped the ball on that," Blair concluded, referring to the beating that had put him in the hospital the past autumn.

"You're still feeling good?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Clean bill of health--I just had my annual physical a couple months ago. The kidney's fine." Blair paused. "You know, I really appreciated you visiting me in the hospital. I don't know if I ever thanked you." And Blair had appreciated Jim's father showing up and setting his potted plant on the bedside table a bit awkwardly, looking just like an elderly Jim, not too sure how his gesture would be received, and not terribly comfortable making it. But trying.

"No need." Bill Ellison paused, as if it were hard for him to say what he felt in so many words, not unlike his son. "You're family now, Blair. This family has its problems, but we do stick together when the chips are down."

"Thanks, Dad," Jim said quietly, realizing there was a great deal of meaning in that statement. His father hadn't been pleased with having a son-in-law instead of a daughter-in-law, but once the decision had been made, he'd coped with it. And once he'd spent some time with Blair, the younger man's infectious personality had worked its charms on him. He'd actually called Jim on the carpet after Blair's assault for not having foreseen it and kept a better eye on him.

"Jimmy, I'm sorry, but I've got to ask you...that earring..." Bill Ellison seemed to struggle to choose his next words, then leaned forward, speaking in a hushed tone. "Is it a...gay thing?"

Blair choked a little on his cooked carrot, and took a drink of water to wash it down. Jim laughed good-naturedly, sitting back in his chair.

"I got my ear pierced on a dare in college, Dad. I wore an earring for a while then, and I wore one when I worked Vice. I just felt like trying it out again. It's got nothing to do with my sexual preference," he explained patiently.

"What does the PD think about it?"

"I don't plan on wearing it to work." Jim chuckled. "Though I would pay money to watch Simon try to figure out how to deal with it if I did. But I'm not willing to risk some pissed off perp yanking it out in a fight."

"Ouch," Blair said, cringing a little as he thought of his own earrings.

Dinner passed with more friendly conversation, and by early evening, the two men left, enjoying a twilight ride home on the motorcycle.

"I thought your dad handled everything pretty well," Blair probed, pushing his glasses back up his nose as he read, propped up in bed. Jim had stayed up later to watch something on a news program that caught his interest, and was just now meandering into the bedroom.

"Yeah, he did." Jim tossed his robe aside and slid into bed. When he reached up to turn out the light, he froze in place, noticing the new addition to his nightstand. In a small gold frame, the 3 x 5 snapshot Blair had kept with him, hidden in the disk carrier, was sitting next to the lamp.

"You can move it to the dresser if it gets in your way there," Blair said.

"This won't bother you--the photo being out where you can see it?"

"Not anymore." Blair set his book aside and took off his glasses, setting both items on his night stand. "Now when I look at it, I remember you holding me, us making love afterwards... You know, I'm always going to have bad memories, and it's always going to hurt when I think back on that time...but I've gotta hand it to you, man. You're one hell of a dragon slayer."

"A dragon slayer, huh?" Jim asked, smiling a little, clearing his throat to dispell the little tremor in his voice as he turned out the light, sentinel eyesight taking one last look at the picture before turning over to face Blair. A Blair who, after all he'd endured, was every bit as beautiful as the one in the photo.

"Yup." Blair reached up and turned out his own lamp and shifted onto his side to face Jim. "The bad memories come back sometimes, and you take care of it. Get rid of them. Take away their power. I mean, I still remember it, but it's like it doesn't have a hold on me anymore. You do that for me. You replace all the hurt with something...wonderful." Blair smiled a little shakily, resting his hand over Jim's heart. "You slay the old dragons for me."

"Sort of like you've done with getting me and my dad back together."

"You guys are doing that, not me," Blair said softly, moving into arms Jim opened for him.

"You're the glue that's holding it together, sweetheart. The way you've helped me to see things...and...maybe it's the fact that my dad genuinely likes you, that he treats you well--maybe that's the thing that makes me see the most good in him. Because he's good to you. He really tore me a new one for not keeping a better eye on you when you ended up in the hospital."

"He did, huh?" Blair chuckled a little. "You know, Jim, I see a lot of you in your dad. Maybe that's why I can understand him, sort of see where he's coming from--understand that he doesn't always say it in so many words, but if you look in his eyes, it's there." Blair smiled up at Jim, who kissed his forehead in silent reply. "Whatever the reason, I'm glad things are going well with you guys."

"I think tonight was maybe the first time..." Jim shrugged. "It's hard to explain, but it felt like he finally...accepted me. On my terms."

"You know what I think?" Blair paused. "I think he always loved you, that he was lousy at being a parent and screwed up more times than you could probably count, but I think that in his mind, what he did was somehow supposed to make things better for you. He was raising a champion--setting up this system of rewards and punishments like he'd do for his subordinates in the corporate world."

"It's hard to look at it that way when you're so close to it."

"He hurt you, and Stephen. But I think mostly you. In a warped sort of way, you may have been his favorite all along. Or at least the one he had the most faith in as a winner. He drove you harder, came down on you harder and expected more. From somebody like your dad, that's probably a sign he thought you were the most likely to succeed." Blair sighed. "It's hard, you know, when you tell me things he did, like selling your bike or getting rid of the drums--it seems so damned...mean. Then he turns around and is so nice to me, and accepts us, and really tries..." Blair shook his head a little. "Maybe he thought playing the drums and riding a motorcycle would turn you into a hoodlum or something."

"I think that was what he worried about. I wanted to put a band together in high school, and I was going to school on the Harley every day... I think the image bothered him--he couldn't deal with it."

"And now he has. Tonight. You showed up looking like his worst nightmare, with your male lover along for the ride, and he dealt with it. That's progress, man."

"It is, isn't it?" Jim smiled, leaning in to kiss Blair's mouth soundly. "What do you say we make a little progress now, huh?" Jim let a hand stray down to squeeze Blair's ass, and Blair responded by humping against him.

Both men were very groggy when six a.m. rolled around.

"Jim, c'mon, if you wanna eat! What's the hold up, man?!" Blair called up from the foot of the stairs, then laughed at himself. Not only did he not have to walk to the foot of the stairs, but he didn't have to raise his voice. Even now, he was still capable of forgetting the extent of Jim's abilities. Returning to the kitchen, Blair dished up the eggs and the toast, making a mental note not to let Jim get away with toasting a couple of bagels when it was his turn to do breakfast.

"Sorry, Chief. Smells great," Jim said, kissing the back of Blair's head as he moved past him to take the coffee pot to the table and pour two cups.

"No problem, man. I just figured with that meeting you've got with the mayor this morning that you wouldn't want to be la--" Blair stopped dead in his tracks, almost dropping the two plates on the floor. "Your...you shaved...everything."

"Not quite everything, sweetheart," Jim responded, laughing. He had shaved off the mustache and the goatee, but all other hair was still intact. "Disappointed?" he asked.

"Depends on why you shaved it off," Blair responded, still standing there a bit stunned as Jim took the two plates out of his hands and set them on the table. "If it's because you wanted to, then no, I'm not."

"I came to a realization last night," Jim said simply, sitting

down as Blair did. "That guy with the goatee and the earring...he's not me anymore. He's someone who needed to prove something, who needed a lot of...visuals to get his point across, make his mark."

"But last night changed that?"

"I looked in the mirror this morning, and I realized I didn't have anything else I needed to prove--well, everyone does, but at least nothing that I could accomplish with goatees and earrings." Jim shrugged. "It's hard to put it into words exactly..."

"You needed to test everybody's limits a little?" Blair probed, smiling.

"Yeah, maybe," Jim said, nodding. "I guess making my own choices was addictive--not worrying about pleasing anyone. And you... you were always pleased as long as I was." Jim took a hold of Blair's hand. "I just didn't feel the need to play the rebel role anymore. Well, at least not with the goatee," Jim added, grinning devilishly. "Now the drums, the bike and the leathers--especially yours--they stay."

"You're always going to be a rebel, man. It's in your blood," Blair said, laughing as he covered their joined hands with his free hand. Then he became more serious. "Maybe it makes more sense to say that you're an individualist with a strong distaste for authority."

"That's a rebel, Chief," Jim responded, laughing.

"Not exactly. You like to do things your own way, you don't enjoy taking orders but you will if you don't have a serious conflict with them. You will work within the system...most of the time," Blair added with a grin. "A rebel... that's just a person with a lot of anger inside who needs to make a point all the time, resists for resistance's sake. Maybe working things out with your dad...maybe it quelled a little of that anger. Maybe not being stifled was all you needed all along. Instead of pounding you into shape to fit a certain mold, maybe given a little freedom, you'd have come around to it in your own good time."

"And now I have."

"But now being the person you are is your choice, not someone else's choice for you. You had total freedom to choose whatever image you wanted--you still do. Even your dad came around and handled everything you threw at him. That makes for a lot less inner conflict. You are who you want to be."

"Thank you." Jim pulled Blair's hand up and kissed the back of it.

"I didn't do this, Jim. You did it."

"No, I didn't. All these years and I didn't do it. At least, not effectively. I did the whole rebellion thing in Vice, but I wasn't happy there either."

"Even then, Jim, you didn't dress that way or wear the earring because it was right for you. You did it to piss everyone off. Again, someone else was indirectly making your choices for you. Their reactions were what drove you to do what you did. Not because it was necessarily right for you." Blair was quiet a minute. "You needed to get in touch with Jim Ellison, the one that's in here." He pointed at Jim's chest. "He just needed a chance to be heard, to choose what was right for him. All your life, somebody else has been calling the shots. It was your turn, man." Jim caught the hand that pointed and kissed it.

"He also needed someone to bring him out, and you did that, sweetheart."

"Hey, if you could deal with the basket of bones you got back from Watson, I could handle your inner self," Blair responded, smiling a little sadly. "There wasn't much left of me when you got me--a scrawny guy with bad color and lopsided hair who occasionally had such violent nightmares that he pissed himself. If you could love the me that was deep underneath all that, why is it so remarkable that I could love whatever you is deep underneath all your layers?"

"You were always beautiful to me, baby," Jim said softly, laying a hand on the side of Blair's face, stroking the cheek with his thumb.

"And you've always been beautiful to me--with or without the cookie duster." Blair smiled widely now, brushing a thumb over Jim's smooth upper lip. "I could just suck on that mouth all day," he said breathily.

"I don't think I can use that for an excuse with the mayor, sweetheart." Jim nipped at the thumb, trapping it between his lips, then releasing it with a kiss. "Oh, shit." Jim checked his watch, jumping out of his chair.

"Sandwiches," they said simultaneously, stuffing the scrambled eggs between two pieces of cooling toast and running for the door.

As Jim started up the truck with an egg sandwich in one hand, a little frustrated sexual desire simmering beneath the surface, and the object of that desire dribbling scrambled egg on the truck seats, he had to laugh to himself.

//This is your life, Jim Ellison...and you're the luckiest bastard on earth...//

The End...Until Next Time :-)


End file.
